Squeaky Clean
by Major Clanger
Summary: Daniel Jackson gets a new cleaner, and more than he bargained for!


Title: **_Squeaky Clean_**  
Author: Major Clanger  
Email: majclanger@aol.com  
Category: Humour  
Pairing: Daniel/other  
Spoilers: little ones for loads of stuff, probably right up to S4  
Season: 4  
Rating: G

Status: Complete  
Summary: Daniel gets a new cleaner

Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and it's characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions and Gekko Productions. These stories are for entertainment purposes only, and no money exchanged hands. Really. Honestly. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations and stories are the property of the author. That is me, and I write under the name of "Major Clanger" for reasons that are unclear, even to me. These stories may not be posted elsewhere without my consent, although if you really want to, you could send me an e-mail and ask. After you get the smelling salts under my nose, I'll probably say "yes".  
Author's notes: This was a sort of challenge on the Starguide forum. It is dedicated to my good friend Vicky (heh heh heh) and thanks yet again to Kat for the beta. Feedback welcome.

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The middle of the night is a quiet time at the SGC. Well, quieter than normal.  And the middle of the night on a weekend is even quieter than that.  Which is good. Otherwise there would be no time for the routine maintenance, that the behemoth, that is the SGC, requires to survive.

This particular Saturday night is not as quiet as it might be.  The control room is devoid of life; the computer systems click, hum and whirr contentedly to themselves.  They are monitoring... nothing.  The universe is strangely silent, kindly allowing for the afore-mentioned routine maintenance.

If the computer systems were monitoring the gate room below – which they aren't, that is beneath them, the normal security system is taking care of the minion tasks – they would be stunned at the activities within.  If they had ears, they would also be wishing for hands to put over them at the cacophony echoing around the great chamber.  Luckily they hear and see nothing, unlike the poor Airman who will have to review the security tapes on Monday morning.

Maybe we should take a look at the source of the noise which would cause the fictitious computer ears such pain... upon reflection we will save that particular pleasure for another occasion.  The cavernous room – room?  it is really a hall– is sparsely furnished.  In the middle is a short metal ramp leading to a huge stone circle.

OK.  It's not actually a stone circle, because that would imply something on the scale of Stonehenge, and whilst it's big, it's not **_that big. More accurately it's a ring.  Like a doughnut, or a Life-saver sweet (or for British readers, a Polo mint. Yes, the one with the hole). _**

 The stone ring is not really made of stone.  It is composed of an element, not found on this planet, called naquada.  Sometimes it's spelt naquadah.  It depends on where you saw it first really.  There is also discussion about whether or not naquada(h) is an element or not.  (If you really want to join the discussion, please contact the author – but you should be warned, it is very very bor… technical.) We are not concerned with that right now – it is better left to far cleverer heads than this writer's, to discuss and refute suggestions for and against this theory.

There are other things in the room: first-aid boxes, panic buttons and fire extinguishers most likely.  But they are peripheral because it is the ring that demands attention.

At regular intervals around the surface of the ring are strange devices fondly referred to as glyphs by those in the know.  When activated, by those earless computers in the control room, the inner ring slowly revolves stopping occasionally for so-called 'chevrons' to 'engage' and then a truly remarkable occurrence... err... well... occurs. 

With a loud whooshing noise a huge gravity defying fountain of water shoots out of the centre of the ring like a horizontal waterfall, then retreats to become a shimmering, vertical pool of water which against all currently known laws of physics does not spill on the floor and make an awfully wet mess.  At least, against all the laws of physics currently known on Earth.  Maybe the Tollan will let us in on some of their superior discoveries one of these days. Or maybe not.

Behind the improbable vertical puddle there is a wormhole connecting the Stargate – for that is what the huge naquada(h) ring is called – to a similar Stargate on another planet. The activities of the personnel at the SGC – the Stargate teams, of whom by far the most active are SG-1 – are well documented.  And that is as it should be because they are not only interesting adventures,  the members of that particular team are interesting too.  And nice to look at.  Oh yes.  Very nice.

As those SG teams pass through the huge grey ring, perhaps– especially the one known as Daniel Jackson, for reasons known to his myriad fans – they occasionally notice a complete absence of dust or other foreign particles on their precious Stargate.  Or, more probably – except for Daniel Jackson, who would surely sneeze his way across the galaxy if dust were present on the shiny grey surface of the naquada(h) ring – they don't notice at all.  For much to the chagrin of the people who keep it in it's pristine condition, the work of a cleaner is only noticed when it is withdrawn.

In honour of the faceless, nameless and invisible individuals, please read on.  And next time you travel with SG-1 through the Stargate on yet another adventure, give thanks – if for nobody else then please, on behalf of the severely allergic Daniel Jackson – that the cleaners don't go on strike.

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On a typical Thursday evening SG-1 get together, there has been some small accident in the Jackson apartment involving a pot plant, a baseball bat and some guacamole.

Don't ask.

All we need to know is that, yet again, there has been an accident and that it must be cleaned up.  So, let's have a look and see what happens...

"Oh hell,"  Daniel headed off to the kitchen.  "Anyone know where I keep my vacuum cleaner?"

"Sheesh! No wonder this place is such a dump!" Jack surveyed the pristine apartment.

"Yeah, well, look at the dust-free bachelor pad for the last time. My cleaning lady just got married and her husband has been posted to Alaska."

"You **_pay a woman to clean up after you?" Sam looked indignant on behalf of the downtrodden cleaning women of the world._**

"You don't think we have time to do it ourselves do you? Anyway I don't suit an apron and rubber gloves…"

"Oh I don't know... blue ones...." the Colonel was silenced as the Major's icy stare removed itself from Daniel and pinned him to the sofa.

"Well I like to think of it as helping further the cause of female empowerment,"  Daniel unselfishly tried to draw the killer stare back on himself.

"Keeping women under the knuckle," the only female member of SG-1 was outraged and hadn't removed her eyes from the Colonel's person.

"Not at all," the linguist gave her his killer smile, blue eyes blazing earnestly.  "We give them the chance to be financially independent. We're not taking **_from them; we're _****_giving them opportunities."_**

"What he said!"  It was one of those rare moments when Jack wanted to high-five his friend.  He looked triumphantly over at Sam to see her eyes alight with the passion of her argument.

"Oh.  That's OK then,"  the fire vanished abruptly, neither of her team-mates noticed the subtle change.  "Because for a moment I could have sworn that you were trying to tell me that it's a privilege for these women to buff your bathtubs, clean your kitchens and press your pants! Frankly I'm flabbergasted that **_they're not paying _****_you!"  she set her glass down carefully and made her unsteady way to the bathroom._**

The door was safely closed before Jack turned to Daniel.  "Carter's drunk."

"How can you tell?"

"She's walking as though she's not quite sure where the floor is.  Anyway, all that alliteration… you'd have to be drunk to say _'_buff the bathtub' wouldn't you?"

They observed her post-bathroom progress across the living room.  Daniel gave Jack an almost imperceptible nod behind her back and mouthed the words "definitely drunk"  He wasn't brave enough to say this out loud however merely asking,  "Anyone for coffee?"

Eventually, his team-mates having left, Daniel trailed around his apartment clearing up the inevitable 'Beer and Pizza Evening' mess.  It was a sobering activity and by the end he'd resolved, come what may, to find a replacement cleaner the next day. Or the earliest opportunity – which wouldn't be for a couple of days because missions were planned for the whole of the next week.

He really detested fact that good cleaners were hard to come by_._

_'Hard? Damned near impossible!' First he had to find someone truly able to care for his precious artefacts, some of which had belonged to his parents and only recently returned by Nick.  Then he had to reject the ones who wanted to mother him and bake apple pies for him.  And, of course, there were the others... he shook his head to banish the terrifying memories of some of the women he'd interviewed and headed off to bed._

After writing in his journal he switched off the light, settled down and descended into a dream, where the world was populated with cleaners who had yellow glowing eyes and designs on his body.  Daniel was glad when the alarm woke him and dragged that same unwilling body – which would be joined by his conscious mind only after the ingestion of a pot of coffee and some commissary pancakes – into another day.

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SG-1 had been making friends on in a place that might as well have been called Muddytown Jack reflected mutinously, as he squelched his way through ankle deep mud back to the DHD. Teal'c was in front of him and Jack scowled at the broad back before him as the Jaffa plodded steadily – 'and cleanly, how does he do that?' – in front of the bedraggled Colonel.  The only good thing about his condition was that he wasn't quite as wet and dirty as his 2IC and – he suppressed a shudder of delight – nowhere  near approaching the state of Daniel Jackson.

To call the archaeologist clumsy would, in Jack's opinion, be the very epitome of understatement.  Ever since the rain had started – approximately 30 seconds after they had been spewed unceremoniously out of the Stargate – if there had been a puddle or mud hole Daniel had somehow fallen into it.  If there had been a rock, root or branch to trip over – and subsequently land in a muddy puddle – Daniel had been the one to catch it with the toe of his boot.  These little accidents, in themselves amusing, hadn't disturbed the Colonel unduly.  What had bothered him, however, was Daniel's irrepressible good humour.

Jack couldn't understand it. The guy had been head to toe in mud – Muddyville could only aspire to rudimentary plumbing – for three days now, and he was still in a good mood.

_'Must be a woman involved,'_  the CO thought uncharitably.

A loud squelching followed by the familiar slap of body hitting mud brought him to a halt. As he turned he was greeted with deluge of most unladylike language while Carter tried once again, to retrieve Daniel from his latest muddy predicament.

With a theatrical sigh Jack stooped and grabbed his semi-submerged comrade's pack and hauled him into an upright position.  With exaggerated slowness, he removed Daniel's glasses and wiped them clean with the hem of his jacket.  They were barely cleaner as he slid them back up his friend's nose and patted him sympathetically on the cheek.

"There isn't much to see anyway, you're not missing anything."

"Gee thanks Jack.  What would I do without you."

Sam sniggered, they were getting more like the odd couple every day.  She sighed inwardly.  Of course it would be a terrible waste if they were – as some at the SGC suspected – involved with each other. 

_'Oh well, nothing doing with Colonel O'Neill anyway, he's made that clear enough'_.  She hefted her pack onto her shoulder and with a sympathetic glance at Daniel said aloud, "It's only about half a click from here now,"  and trudged off leaving the two men to follow.

After what seemed to Daniel like half a century, but was in reality only about half an hour, the team arrived at the DHD. 

"OK Danny, get us outta here!"  Daniel could hear the smirk in his voice but with his glasses in the state they were, he couldn't work out why.

He stepped closer and peered short-sightedly at the plinth.  The area around it was a quagmire, with one or two pointed stepping stones emerging from the brown slop.  His shoulders drooped as he realised, that filthy as he was, his life was about to get a whole lot muddier.

Jack continued to smirk.  Sam tried gallantly to conceal her mirth but twinkling eyes gave her away. 

"C'mon Danny, what are you waiting for?"  Jack could no longer contain himself and shook with laughter.

"Oh well..."  Daniel pulled himself together and stepped gingerly onto the first stone.  It held.  He put all his weight on his foot and swung over to the next which also held.  He reached the one which was big enough for him to put both feet side by side and couldn't resist a triumphant glare at his team.

Dialling home was merely a matter of pressing the correct glyphs in the right sequence.  Even without the aid of spectacles Daniel managed that, ending the sequence by punching the centre of the DHD with a flourish.  Looking around he realised that he'd have to go back the way he came.  Overconfident, he swivelled on his rock and promptly became unbalanced. His team-mates were treated to his cartoon-like windmill arm actions before he slowly and gracefully fell face first into the mud.

"Ow!"  he pushed himself up.  He'd hit one of the pointed rocks with his forehead so that now, in the middle of his mud-pack, a small red trickle broke up the uninterrupted vista of brown goo.  He sighed – 'shower and bed, that's what I need' – and manoeuvred himself into a semi- kneeling position.  "So... you guys gonna help me out here at all?"

"Nope. Too busy peeing in my pants... not a chance."  Jack's face was split with a broad grin.

"You OK Daniel?"  Sam showed a little concern amid the laughter.  She helped him up and, with no little help from Teal'c, dragged him up the ramp and through the event horizon.

Thirty seconds later they were trailing muddy pools across the gate room under General Hammond's disapproving stare.  He didn't know whether to congratulate them on their safe return, or admonish them about the mess.  Part of his duty was to keep the SGC within budget – he'd had to cut the cleaning bills by contracting out those duties and the civilian cleaners had to be paid by the hour.  He rubbed a hand over tired eyes and instructed Sgt. Davies to arrange for the cleaner to follow SG-1 all the way to the infirmary.

Not one of SG-1 noticed a small figure emerge from the corner of the gate room and start mopping the floor after them.  If you remember: weekends in the deserted gate room are accompanied by an unbearable noise.  This figure was responsible for that, but strictly **_only on weekends.  She had received specific instructions that singing would not be tolerated during normal working hours – _"normal___ for whom?" she had asked rhetorically at the time – and so she worked without the benefit of her personal stereo.  And the members of the SGC worked in peace, protected from her 'singing' along to her favourite tunes. _**

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"Shit!" Daniel had good grounds for his expostulation. His recently re-filled pint mug of coffee had somehow managed to up-end itself all over his desk. The mug – still half-full – had then skittered across the only part of the desk that wasn't entirely covered with books and papers.  He had watched in horrified fascination as it dropped like a stone, shattering on the polished linoleum-covered concrete floor into hundreds of tiny pieces.

He knew – from past similar clumsy experiences – that had he been there Jack would have made some comment about needing more reflex training.  Then he'd have to attend boxing or self-defence lessons until the Colonel tired of the joke.  Sam, on the other hand, would have started a discussion of the relative velocity of coffee of differing temperatures and strength.  She would, no doubt, have translated her calculations into an equation that would at some future point re-surface in her revised plans for a naquada reactor.  Teal'c would have said nothing, simply handing Daniel paper towels to mop it up with.

Daniel roused himself from his self-pitying daydream – dwelling on his defects wouldn't help any.  Cutting off further depressing thoughts he grabbed his constant companions – in the World of Daniel, Kleenex are ubiquitous – and dived under the table to make a token attempt to clear up some of the mess.

He knew, because he'd once overheard a conversation between two of them, that the cleaners regarded him with exasperation.

_'They probably shouldn't complain' he thought ruefully __'they're going to be able to put their kids through college from the overtime I give them'._

Dabbing ineffectually at the brown liquid, he realised that cleaning wasn't his forte. He appeared to be merely pushing the mess around and not clearing any of it up.  The realisation further added to his depression.  Still, he had two weeks before the team were due at his place for pizza and beer again.  He was sure he could have it clean and tidy again by then.

The image of how his apartment had looked that morning flitted across his brain and his heart sank.  Maybe he could persuade them to go out for the evening instead.  How hard could that be?  After all, he talked alien cultures into trusting the SGC all the time.

He was so busy thinking and mopping – badly – that he was startled to see that a pair of boots had appeared close to his head at the far side of the spillage zone.

_'Spillage zone?  Wow Jackson, you're definitely spending way too much time with the military' ._

The boots hadn't – Daniel was relieved to see – arrived entirely under their own steam. He looked at them again: not military.  A pair of Dr. Martens' more colourful product – a sort of multi-coloured psychedelic pattern - with laces the colour of a Mylanta bottle, ended abruptly where a pair of opaque-stockinged legs began their ascent. He peered up but only got as far as knees and the hem of a flowered overall before a rap on the head reminded him where he was.

When one of the boots began to tap impatiently he decided to come out of his hiding place. He felt like an idiot but he knew (grammatically as well as intellectually) to whom those boots belonged and was reluctant to do so.  He continued his ineffective clean-up actions whilst mumbling almost incoherently about _'coffee spillage'.  The boot stilled itself.  Or rather, the foot inside the boot arrested its movement._

With his heart thumping painfully in his chest, as though it were trying to escape the wrath about to be released, Daniel held his breath in the hope that it would beat less painfully.  He was shocked into banging his head again by the sudden appearance of a head into his field of vision.  The face that accompanied the voice was equipped with a pair of blue eyes and a small, slightly pointed chin.   Between the eyes and the chin was a smile, wide enough to reveal even white teeth.

"Look, are you going to be down there all flaming day?"

The panic that had arisen at the prospect of being bawled out by the diminutive cleaner was eclipsed by the linguist in him unsuccessfully trying to place her accent.

"Um… where are you from?"  Daniel's inability to answer a direct question could only be rivalled by career politicians.

"Birmingham," she hadn't missed a beat.

"Alabama?"  he was incredulous.

"England.  The original."

"Ah."

"Leave that mess.  The late shift will get it," she looked up at him.  "Flaming Norah! Why are you lot so tall?  What are you, 6 foot?"

"Yes, 6 feet," he surreptitiously felt the back of his head.  This conversation was taking on a Pythonesque turn – he must be concussed or something.  "Nice boots by the way,"  he decided to see where this was all leading.

"Thanks. The reason…"

"Nice touch, the blue laces."

"Green."

"What?"

"The laces. They're green. Mint-green if you want to be pedantic."

"Looked blue to me."

"Well… it's dark down there. They're deffo mint-green. Said so on the packet," she shook her head as if to clear it. "Anyway… the reason I'm here is…"

"Oh?" He could give the politicians a run for their money in the interruption stakes too.

"Yes. Colonel O'Neill seemed to think…"

"Ah.  That."

"What?"

"Um… look, it's OK.  It's nothing."

"He didn't seem to think it was nothing. I was about to go when he asked me to stop by as a special favour to him," she peeled off a rubber glove and peered short-sightedly at her watch. "Um, do you know what the time is?  I can't see a flaming thing without my specs."

"Yeah, it's four thirty."

"Bugger, I'm going to be late.  I spent ages scrubbing that gate room this afternoon, the mud was caked on… must have been there for two days already.  And then Major Carter insisted I bag it all up and take it to her lab and… Oh, sorry.  You don't need to know all that."

"Ah... I think that was me too.  Sorry."

"Not to worry, I haven't finished my homework anyway – I'd only get it in the neck."

"Homework?"

"Yes," The small pointed chin jutted out as if daring him to challenge her. "I do this to pay my college fees."

"I didn't mean…"

"No. Sorry.  Just defensive.  Sometimes the people here talk to me as if I'm a moron."

Daniel shuffled his feet  "Um… actually I did want to ask you something.  Do you want some coffee?"

"I came over here as a special favour to Colonel O'Neill… and the burning question was **_'do you want coffee'?  I don't believe it."  The blue eyes twinkled._**

"No, no. I meant… since you're not really in a hurry to get away … and I really do have something to ask you… perhaps you'd like a coffee?"

"Never touch the stuff.  I'd prefer a cup of tea… if you have any?"

"Um… noooo, but we could go to the commissary if you like?"

She recoiled in mock horror.  "Can't drink that muck. Call that tea?  Have you got a kettle or something?  I've got my own teabags.  Me mum sends them over."  She rummaged in the copious overall pockets.

Five minutes later they were sitting companionably over two mugs of tea, and Daniel was being lectured on the virtues of Tetley tea bags.  Rather forcefully it must be said.  Lectured with the passion that only a dedicated expatriate British tea-drinker can muster.

"So, what are you studying?  The effects of prolonged abstinence from Tetley tea?  The socio-economic importance of tea in the Anglo-Saxon world?"

"No need to be sarkey.  Actually I'm studying Middle English."

"Really? I'd like to hear about it." 

"Not now.  Another time perhaps. See, it works like this: you'll get a taste for the tea, you **_do realise that only the first cup is for free?  You'll eventually have to sell everything you own to feed your habit.  I think we're going to be spending a lot of time together," she winked theatrically._**

Daniel put on his best-horrified look.  "Well it **_is good.  But I'll stick to the Colombian stuff if you don't mind."_**

"So.  You were going to ask me something?  Colonel O'Neill seemed to think I'd be just the right person for you."

"I don't even know your name.  I can't just ask if I don't know who I'm asking."

"It's Violet.  Violet Spoonbill," she shot him a warning look. "Don't say anything.  I didn't choose either of them."

"Touchy!"  Daniel felt relaxed in Violet's company.  Maybe it was her direct manner, or her English accent, he wasn't quite sure.

_'Oh hell, maybe there's something in the tea!' _

He was beginning to think he should just get it over with and ask her.  After all, the worst that would happen was that she would laugh and say 'no'.  Or maybe punch him out and say 'no'. 

_'OK do it now!' _

He was interrupted by Violet's impatient, "Dr. Jackson.  If you don't spit it out in the next 2 seconds, I'm off.  I still have some homework to finish…"

He took his courage in both hands, telling himself that shyness was a stupid trait in someone who regularly saved the planet.  "OK. Well, it's like this…" once again he was interrupted, this time by Jack.

"Danny, we have to get going… oh, sorry. Didn't realise you had company."  Turning to Violet he said in an exaggerated stage-whisper, "Did he ask you yet?  Because I happen to know that Major…"

"No Jack, I was about to when you came in.  Was there something in particular?"  the anthropologist's voice was icy.

"Whoa there.  I'm off.  Don't forget it's my place for pizza tonight, and you're bringing the beer."

"OK. See you at 7."

"Civilians!"  the Colonel rolled his eyes.  "That would be 19:00 hrs!  Don't be late!"

Violet stood as he left.  "I really have to get on… I'll just pop in on Major…"

"No.  Please.  Wait. I was wondering if… feel free to say 'no' of course… but I was wondering if you'd like to… I mean if you would… um… well…"

"Flaming Norah! Are you asking me to do something illegal or immoral?  'Cos if you are the answer's a definite maybe."

"No no no.  Nothing like that.  I was wondering, if you wouldn't mind, if you would consider…."

"OK.  I've had enough.  Major…"

"I'mlookingforsomeonetocleanmyapartment," the words rushed out and he couldn't meet her eye for some reason.

"OK. Breathe."  Violet was shaking with laughter. "Is that it? I thought you were going to proposition me or something!   I mean," she winked, "I would have said yes to that too."

 "It's not that big but there are loads of really…" Daniel's brain finally assimilated what she'd said "Oh, um… I mean…"

"Just teasing, luv."

"So, would you like to see the apartment first?"

"What?  Now?  I'll have to get changed first."

He looked at her "Oh, you mean…"

"If you think I'm going out in public like this, you can think again!" she indicated the nylon flowered overall and the headscarf she'd tied turban style over her hair. A few blonde tendrils escaped at the sides and curled around her ears and neck.

"OK, how about I meet you here in half an hour?"

"Make it an hour… I have to take a shower…  the locker room was filthy… suppose that's down to you too?"

He nodded.  "Sorry 'bout that."  Walking past her he sneezed three times, in rapid succession and searched vainly through his pockets for a tissue.

"Here."  Violet held out some Kleenex.  "You getting a cold?  Because I could do without catching something."

"Allergies."

"Ah."

"That's why I can't clean the place myself…"

"Good excuse!"  the eyes were twinkling again.

"No, really. Ask Ja... Colonel O'Neill.  Ask anyone.  In…" he sneezed violently "…fact, I think it's your perfume."

"I'm not wearing any... ah, but I've been very liberal with the spray polish today maybe it's that?" Her face fell"  Look can we look at your place another time?  I really have to finish that homework or I'm in the brown stuff."

"OK then."  He thought awhile.  "How about Monday afternoon?"  He scribbled down the address and handed it to her.

"See you there then.  Bye,"  Daniel was still staring at the door in disbelief when Jack came back to haul him out.

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"Daniel?" Sam shook his arm gently.

"Hey! Earth calling Daniel... do you copy?"

"Wha'... what's up?" Daniel had been far away in his thoughts.

"You OK?" Sam's hand was warm on his arm. 

"I was just thinking."

"Dangerous" Jack took another pull at his beer.

"Jack! I was thinking how to tell Sam... oh... well, Sam, I really tried you know but..." Daniel didn't meet her eye.  "Oh OK. You'll find out anyway.  I've arranged for someone to clean my place."

"I thought you were going to do it yourself!"  she was indignant.

"Allergies."

"Allergies?"

"Allergies,"   he said it more emphatically.

"So what's that got to do with cleaning?"

"Allergic to dust.  And most cleaning products.  And latex gloves…"  he gestured helplessly. "Anyway, it's a good deal on both sides. She's going to feed my fish when we're away.  And what I pay her will help her pay for college."

"Oh, you're **_so benevolent."  Sam still didn't approve of her friend 'exploiting' women in this way but she had to admit that the allergies were a good excuse.  She thought she might get some more mileage out of teasing him about it though.  "Funny though, how those allergies only crop up when they're useful to you."_**

"What's **_that supposed to mean?"_**

"We're in dusty temples and on planets full of trees all the time...."

"Yeah, Daniel, get out of that."  Jack raised his bottle.  "For those about to die, we salute you!"

The Major rounded on him instantly.  "Well, Sir, what's **_your excuse?  Your cleaner has finished college already.  In fact she's ready for the Sunnyvale Retirement Home..."_**

Daniel grinned and raised his bottle.  "Brothers in arms, Jack, we're brothers in arms."

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"Wow!  You live in a museum!"

"Well, it's not that bad... just a few things on the walls and..."

"... and the rest!"  Violet looked appreciatively around the room.  "OK then, let's see your equipment."

"Excuse me?"  Daniel blushed to the roots of his short hair.

"Dr. Jackson!  I want to see if your vacuum cleaner is up to the job, or if I have to force you to buy me a new one."

"Oh, right.  Well... actually my vacuum cleaner doesn't work that well.  The bag keeps splitting apparently.  The rest of the cleaning stuff is there," he waved a hand towards the under-sink cupboard.

He had to admit that the thought of being propositioned by a diminutive Englishwoman in his own apartment wasn't entirely horrible to him. _'It's been too long. Better sort out the other areas of your life too... or else take up some kind of sport'. _

"Urm... would you like some coffee? I don't have any tea."

"Coffee! I'd rather cut my tongue out!" Violet opened the cupboard door and poked around inside "snrf grg hrmph gurgle?"

"Excuse me?"  Daniel was obviously going to have to brush up on his 'British'.

"Snrf grg hrmph gurgle?"

He leaned down and put his head closer to the cupboard.  "Sorry, didn't quite catch that."

"Oh.  I said that I think we need to go shopping."

"We?"

"Well I really don't think I fancy schlepping all the stuff you're going to need up the stairs.  Unless there's a lift in the building.  Anyway, you'll need to tell me what you're **_not allergic to."_**

"Lift?"

"Oh yeah... elevator."

"Nope."

"Just my luck.  OK.  Have you got time today?  We could go to that big supermarket I passed on the way here.  They should have everything.  Including the latest in bag-free allergy-busting vaccers."

"Vaccers?"

"Vacuum cleaners.  Flaming Norah!  You're worse than me mam!"  They sat at the kitchen bar and Daniel sipped at his coffee.

"So.  Shall we go when you've finished that?" she patted her pockets distractedly.  "Um... do you mind if I have a fag?"

"Excuse me?"  Daniel coughed as his coffee went down the wrong pipe.

As she enthusiastically slapped her new employer on the back Violet carried on talking.

"I believe it was Wilde... or was it Shaw … who _said 'the Americans and the British are two peoples divided by a common language'… anyway, it was one of them," she enjoyed poking fun at him.  Maybe it was his linguistic background; he never seemed to explode at her Briticisms the way some people did.  Which made a change because some of the people at college were... well, '__linguistic terrorists' she liked to call them._

"I'd rather you didn't smoke in here.  We can go on the balcony if you like."

"Yeah... I'm gaspin' for one."

"And if we stay in here and you smoke I'll be gaspin' too," despite his best efforts at a British accent it was Violet's turn to choke.

"You sound like Jay Leno... he comes out all Scottish too when he's doing English!  C'mon, I'm **_really busting for one now."_**

Ever the gentleman Daniel held open the door as Violet stepped out onto the balcony. He caught a whiff of something as she went past that made him sneeze.

"Bless you."

"Thank you.  It's your perfume I think."

She shook her head smiling broadly.  "Ah... just got back from the mountain. That'll be Eau de 2000 Flushes," she laughed at his blank look. "Typical bloke, you probably think the toilet fairy cleans the loo!  I'd better get Toilet Duck perfume free then for you."

Daniel frowned _'loo?'... the penny dropped and he laughed.  She looked at him thoughtfully.   He had a nice laugh but she couldn't recall hearing too much of it and she spent an awful lot of her time at the mountain complex obliterating the muddy footprints of SG-1._

_'Pity I work for him really... oh stop that,' she admonished herself __'He's bound to have a girlfriend already.'   Violet finished her cigarette.  "Come on then, let's shop!"_

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SG-1 had spent a fruitful if messy few days in negotiation, with a planet that had thrown a feast, in honour of the treaty with their new allies, in their traditional way.  Even Jack had submitted to being dressed in a toga and lying down to eat his meal in reasonably good grace.  He had plans for the weekend which even wrapping a silly sheet round himself – _'draughty but not unpleasant' – could dampen.  He'd persuaded Daniel to go out with him on a blind date.  Well, Daniel's part of the date was to be blind, Jack's date was in on the secret._

He became only slightly less compliant when he discovered that the natives had decided to keep the SG-1 uniforms as souvenirs. This developed into almost uncooperative, when he'd seen that the road to the Stargate was lined by waving, shouting and generally jolly citizens who were busy chanting, "O'Neill, Jackson, Carter, Teal'c" in a deafening wave of sound.

In Jack's opinion the mission had gone from "OK" to "crap" when the first – _'well, what is that thing? – a paint bomb?' – landed.  Yes, paint-bomb fit the bill__._

_'No doubt Danny will explain the ritual significance of us being bombarded with red paint for the half-mile walk to the gate... I'm sooo going to get him for this!'_

"Smile and wave, smile and wave," Daniel spoke quietly through gritted teeth and a beaming smile.  ""They're valuable allies Jack. I'll explain the significance..."

"I can live without knowing why this is happening to me.  Thanks all the same," Jack ground out between clenched teeth_.  'Grimace and wave grimace and wave... not much further now' was his consoling thought._

The usual welcoming committee awaited them at the foot of the Gate Room ramp. Face twitching in mirth General Hammond welcomed his team back, and was glad to note that they weren't carrying any injuries.

"OK folks. Get checked out and cleaned up. Debriefing at 19:00 hrs."

Dr. Frasier hurried up to them.  "Belay that.  The order is cleaned up and then **_and only then may you come into the infirmary.  I'm still picking mud out of the cracks in my desk after the last time," she scowled pointedly at Daniel._**

_'She's been practising her scary looks, I swear it.'  Jack wasn't brave, or stupid, enough to articulate the thought._

Sam had been edging towards the door of the gateroom during this exchange and suddenly bolted into the corridor running as fast as she could to the locker room and stripping off as much as she decently could along the way.  She reached sanctuary a split second before Jack and Daniel – who had belatedly realised her game plan – slamming the door and shouting through it to them. "I'll be as quick as I can...."

She was as good as her word, and emerged after only ten minutes clean and scrubbed. Indicating the pile of clothes, she gave them her opinion that they should be burned and headed off to the infirmary.  Teal'c appeared and was greeted with incredulous mouth-open stares by his team-mates.

"Doctor Frasier offered me the use of the shower in the sick-bay... she requests your attendance at your earliest convenience."

Jack merely snorted then grabbed Daniel by the arm and dragged him into the room.  As the door was closing Teal'c heard a muffled protest from Daniel at Jack's suggestion that he scrub his back.

The colonel and the linguist were pulling on their pants when they were interrupted by a knock at the door and a familiar voice.  "You lot decent yet or shall I come back later?"

"Come in Violet, we're just leaving."

"So, it's you lot who've been painting the place red then?  I should have guessed.  Oh well, could be worse."  Violet filled her bucket at the sink and began to wash the floor.  Daniel tiptoed across the clean bit, shrugging off Violets death-ray stare in silent apology and disappeared to the infirmary.

Jack watched the hypnotic to-ing and fro-ing of the mop for a while and the germ of an idea stirred.

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"Don't worry luv, he's downstairs.  Come on, or we'll be late."  Violet smiled and tugged at his arm.  "Tell you what shall I do your tie first?"

"Um... what are you... oh no!"

"Charming."

"Sorry.  Nothing against you but... tell me you're winding me up?"

"Um..."

"Please tell me you're here to do the carpets?"

"I can do... but it's not true.  Do you think I put on my best overall for doing the carpets?"

Daniel surveyed the scene.  The usual spectacularly multicoloured boots with the Mylanta bottle coloured – that is green – laces.  Sheer black tights didn't hide the shapely legs tonight.  The floral overall was gathered in at the waist by a wide belt with a huge diamanté studded buckle and was unbuttoned far enough to show a fair amount of cleavage.  As Daniel's eyes travelled up her body, Violet raised her chin in her silent challenging attitude.  Finally his eyes alighted upon her piece de resistance.  A chiffon scarf – the same colour as her laces – was tied over a bouffant hairdo.  But that wasn't all.  Three small, red, hair curlers protruded from the front. It looked rather as though a large green frog was perched on her head sticking its tongue out at him.

Violet stared at him in silent defiance.  "Well, shall I tie the tie or not?"

"Um..."

"He won't wait all night you know."

"Are you..."

"Yes."

"Oh."  For once he was completely stumped for something to say.  He silently offered the tie and bent towards her as she seemed to flick her fingers and it miraculously transformed into the required bow.  He sniffed the air experimentally.  "That doesn't smell like Eau de 2000 Flushes."

Violet merely winked.   "Nope.  Come on... got your keys?"

Daniel started for the door but was arrested by Violet's hand on his arm.  She shook with silent laughter and carefully wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Hold yer 'orses, luv!"  she croaked.  "You didn't think..." she gave him an accusatory glare.

"Well, not really... oh I wasn't... I mean..."

"Whatever."  Violet indicated her voluminous handbag/rucksack.  "Can I borrow your bathroom? I'll be five minutes."

Daniel flapped a weak hand in the direction of the room she already knew intimately and sagged against the wall.  He felt as though he'd just been attacked by a steamroller but unlike the cartoons he occasionally watched, he hadn't instantly sprung back to life.

Violet, typically disobeying all the usual laws of womanhood, emerged from her chrysalis well within the promised time.  Hilda Ogden ("Who the Flaming Norah" our non-British readers cry "is that?" Well, she's the cleaning lady from the long-running British soap opera Coronation Street. Think of… well, there is no equivalent anywhere else in the world. Think Bag Lady)… where were we? Oh yes, Hilda Ogden had been replaced by -------------- (insert name of elegant woman aged 30 here).

She wore a plum coloured long-lined trouser suit and had swept her hair up into a loose knot.  The glasses were absent and Daniel noticed, because his own were planted firmly on his nose, that she was really very attractive.

She walked slowly towards him, leaned over and gently pushed his bottom jaw back to its rightful location.

"Don't do that.  You'll catch flies."  This was accompanied by a broad smile. "So, will I do then?"

"Uh... what... yes. I mean, more than that.  You look great!" 

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Sorry... uh... shall we go then?"  The young man was confused by the barrage of feelings currently assaulting him.  He knew that he liked Violet but he'd never looked at her as a woman before.  Up until she'd emerged, changed, from the bathroom she'd been someone he could talk to, banter with and – and this was a bonus in his book – she didn't make any demands on him. Apart from when he forgot to pay her.  Then, he had to admit, the words '_demands with menaces' more often than not sprang to mind._

Belatedly Daniel realised he was staring again but saw with relief that Violet was smiling as she opened the door.

"C'mon, let's knock 'em dead," she reached out and pushed him through the doorway before he could change his mind.

He sneezed and gave the air in the space recently vacated by Violet an experimental sniff.

"Is that...?"

"2000 Flushes?"

"No!  You know is it...?"

"Perfume?  Yes."

"Nice."

"C'mon he'll go without us."  Violet had a sudden thought.  "Here, carry this will ya?" and thrust her rucksack at him.

"Violet! What have you got in here?  It feels like a load of bricks!"

"Stop moaning and shift yer arse!"

The pair of them spent the next few minutes clattering down the stairs and arrived outside to find a Jack pacing up and down the sidewalk next to – Daniel was stunned to notice – a Cadillac.

"Oh, **_so glad you two could make it!"  he couldn't quite pull off the irritated snarl he'd intended, so he covered this by opening the car door for Violet and gently shoving her inside.  He jumped in the driver's seat.  "You're big enough and ugly enough to open your own doors Jackson!"_**

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Daniel and Jack relaxed back in their chairs watching the retreating backs of their dining companions.  Their practised eyes noticed that Violet was limping slightly or maybe she just wasn't used to the extremely high heels she'd decided on for that evening.  The Colonel swirled his brandy in the, in his opinion, ridiculously oversized balloon and deeply inhaled the fumes released within. 

"Ah, this is the life," he patted his stomach and took another sniff before taking a sip of his drink.

"Well, I could do without putting on a monkey suit every time I go out, but yes.  It is nice."  Daniel looked around the room. 

"I see the _'Ladies Who Lunch' are out," Jack's speech was slurred, but only those who knew him well would have noticed._

"Nearly midnight Jack!"

"Shit!  Quick, the car's gonna turn into a pumpkin!"  Jack finished his brandy.  "Drink up Danny, then we can follow the ladies to the toilet and make a break for..."

His companion merely grinned and mirrored Jack's actions with the brandy balloon.  He looked up and smiled as Sam and Violet returned.  Once again Daniel was surprised how much difference a change of clothes could make.  Sam was wearing a knee length steel-blue dress and high strappy sandals.  She looked nothing like the tough soldier he usually saw.  Jack also seemed to like her look, but now he was looking confused.  He leaned over to Daniel.

"Psst," he whispered.  "Is it me or has Violet shrunk?"

They looked over at the approaching women.  Violet who had previously reached above Sam's shoulder, now lurked mid way between shoulder and elbow.

"No," came the whispered reply.  "She's deffo shorter."

"Deffo?"

"Shut up Jack!"

"Perhaps she's walking in a ditch."

"Jack..."

"Quick, change the subject they're here."

Sam and Violet slid back into their seats and carried on their conversation, which was completely mundane.  We won't bother you with the details here.

"So, anyone want coffee?  Daniel?"  Jack looked round at his dining companions.

"Don't just ask me, Sam drinks nearly as much coffee as I do!"

"I could murder for a cup of tea,"  Violet started rummaging in her voluminous bag and Daniel rolled his eyes.

The waiter, summoned by Jack's discreet hand signal, silently appeared and was immediately engaged in a discussion by Daniel about the various coffee types on offer.  After ten minutes of delicate negotiations he was ready to order.  The waiter arched an enquiring eyebrow at Jack who pointed at his friend and said, "Whatever he's having."  Sam agreed with the colonel. Daniel sighed and made their choice.

The waiter looked at Violet who gave him her most charming smile and requested a tall china cup of just boiled water.

"And make sure it is fresh and not re-boiled."  The waiter's cold stare was no match for Violet's, he dropped his eyes first.  "Please," she added as an afterthought.

He looked at her down his long nose.  She looked back, and her eyes took on a fanatical glint that Daniel recognised all to well.  Violet's pointed chin started to rise before the waiter let the matter drop, by writing swiftly on his order pad and making his exit.

"Anyone mind if I smoke?"  The cigarette was rolled before they had finished shaking their heads.  "Bugger! I've dropped me lighter."

"I'll get it."  Daniel bent his head under the table and the sight that greeted him made him laugh out loud.  He was treated to a sharp kick in the ribs from Jack and banged his head on the way back up.

"Some things never change,"  he grinned at Violet.  "Nice footwear!"

"Oh heck, me feet were killin' me!" she exclaimed.  "Don't!"  This last was directed at Jack who immediately had to look for himself.  Not content with looking from his side of the table, he crawled over and took a very close look at her multi-coloured Dr. Marten boots.

"Nice laces.  Blue is my favourite colour."

"Oh not you too!  They're flamin' well green!"

Sam didn't want to be left out.  She too disappeared under table. 

"Hey! Cut that out!"  Jack jerked backwards.

"Didn't do anything!"  Sam was breathless with the effort of leaning under the table and coming back up again whilst under the influence of Chardonnay.  "Well they look green to me.  You must need your eyes tested Colonel." 

An under-waiter approached with the coffee whilst the headwaiter – perhaps we should give the haughty man his correct title of Maitre d' – glared at a point somewhere just beyond Violet's left shoulder.   She was no stranger to such disdain for her tea-drinking habit and merely gave him a theatrical wink.

Jack and Sam watched, fascinated, as the tea ritual was performed.  Daniel watched their reaction as Violet, having rummaged around once more, produced a small ziploc bag, placed the squeezed tea bag inside and stowed it somewhere in the dark recesses of her bag.

Heading of their questions Daniel quickly explained the importance of Violet's Tetley infusion and the rarity and expense of those little perforated bags of tea.  They all watched as she took a tentative sip, closed her eyes, swallowed and pronounced it OK.

"The water here isn't as good as back home, but it will do."

"I'm glad about that because... OW!   What was that for?"

"Sir?"  Carter raised her eyebrows.

"OK, which one of you was it?  Carter?"

"What?"  she was all innocence.

"Nothing,"  he reached down and rubbed his shin, but not before he'd seen Carter and Violet high five.

"You two can walk home!"

The Maitre d' approached with their bill, stopped behind Jack and coughed discreetly.

"Time to go, kids."  Jack signed the bill with a flourish and the Maitre d' stalked away in disgust as he realised he was only getting a small tip.

"Danny, you OK to get Violet home?"  Jack was helping Sam on with her coat.

"Uh... OK... um, we'll get a cab... if that's alright with you?"

"Oh, we can walk from here, it's only a few streets away."  Violet looked down at her footwear. "At least I can walk now."

"Yeah... walk..."

Violet grabbed his arm and propelled him towards the exit.  "Thanks for dinner, see you tomorrow!" she called over her shoulder.

Outside the night was clear but cold so she set off at a brisk pace.  Daniel had to hurry to keep up with her.  After a few minutes of silent marching during which he reflected that it was worse than being on a mission with Jack and Teal'c they arrived at Violet's building.

"Thanks for walking me home."  Violet stood on tiptoe and kissed Daniel lightly on the cheek. "Do you have to get off now or do you want a cuppa?"

"Cuppa?"

"Tea."

"Oh. Tea.... um"

"I don't bite you know... at least not on a first date."

"Ah..."

Violet had the door open and stood indecisively for half a second, before reaching out and pushing him through.

"At least let me call you a cab from here, its miles to your place."

"Uh..."

"Talkative all of a sudden."  Violet marched him up the stairs.

"Elevator not working?" he was huffing and puffing like a man twice his age.

"Yes."

"What? _'Yes it is working' or __'Yes it's not working'?"_

"Yes it's working.  Stop being such a Big Girls' Blouse.  It's only 3 more floors."

Daniel sighed: they had just passed a huge number 8 in the stairwell.  He plodded on like an automaton and only realised that Violet had stopped when her arm shot out and dragged him through her front door. Where they were met by a young lady holding a small child. Daniel peered at it and revised that to a small baby.

"Sorry Violet, but she wouldn't settle, I thought I'd try her in her own bed... she's been screaming the place down."

Violet reached out and took the child from her neighbour.  " 's okay pet, I suppose she's not ready to stay overnight yet."

The woman glanced over at Daniel and made as though to take the baby back.  "Look, I can give it another go..."

"No, it's OK.  We're just calling a cab... um Lindsey this is my boss, Daniel."  

Lindsey smiled and shook the offered hand.  "Sure you don't want me to take the little one?"

"Sure."  Violet held the baby firmly in one arm and using the other expertly steered her neighbour through the door and locked it behind her.

"She's really nice... but she's always trying to get me fixed up you know."

"I know how you feel."

"Sore subject?"  Violet guided him into the living room and sat him on the sofa.  "Here hold this."

Daniel regarded the little girl in his arms.  She stared back at him with enormous blue eyes and blinked slowly once.  She reminded him of Thor. Well, the blink reminded him of the Asgard commander, obviously a small pink child looked nothing like a small grey alien.  Even without glasses Daniel could have seen that.

Violet returned with the tea and smiled indulgently at the pair on the sofa.

"Here, shall I take her?"

"No, it's OK.  She's nearly asleep."  Daniel was well and truly suckered.  "What's her name?"

"Evangeline."

"Pretty name,"  Daniel looked wistful.  "So where's your...Oh, sorry – too nosy."

"No, it's ok.  He's gone.  I'm well shut of him.  But he left me the gruesome twosome, so he wasn't all bad."

"Twosome?"

"Ah, her sister's at a friend's house.  She doesn't mind where she sleeps.  This one... well, she's a fussy little bugger."  The _'fussy little bugger' gave a contented sigh and tried to burrow into Daniel's body.  He relaxed back into the sofa and tried to make himself comfortable._

Carefully sipping his tea he looked over at Violet who was sitting on the easy chair with her feet curled underneath her.

"So, how old is she?"

"9 months next week.  She's been out as long as she was in!"

As though she knew she was the subject of their conversation Evangeline suddenly stiffened and opened a cavernous mouth.  Instead of the anticipated – by Daniel – yawn or cry she sat up and gave him a lesson in projectile vomiting that he wouldn't forget in a hurry.

Her mother let out a dismayed shout, then burst into laughter at the surprised look on her guest's face.  The sofa, she was glad to see, had escaped scott free – so had Evangeline. Daniel, however, was drenched in a translucent white substance.  Violet silently took the baby and disappeared into another room.  She returned a moment later holding a sweatshirt and a towel, which she handed to her guest with a sheepish look on her face.

"Don't worry, I've had worse."  he looked around.  "Where's the bathroom?"  She pointed and watched dismayed as he shut himself in.

Violet sank down on the sofa and put her head in her hands_. 'Oh heck, he's really going to be pissed-off with me... that suit will cost a fortune to clean... I'll get the sack... OH BUGGER'_

She stayed like that until hands suddenly gripped her by the wrists and pulled her up.  She had her screwed eyes tightly shut – ever since she was a child she'd done that when she was afraid of something – and hadn't noticed him emerge, clutching his shoes in one hand and his jacket and shirt in the other. 

"Open them!"

_'He doesn't sound too mad...'_

"Violet, it's OK, it's only like yoghurt or something.  I don't like that suit anyway."

Violet opened one eye experimentally.  She looked so much as though she was giving him a lewd wink that Daniel couldn't help but laugh.  The other eye opened slowly.  The sight of her oversized – on her – sweatshirt barely covering his midriff, with the cuffs lurking somewhere between wrist and elbow made her smile.  Suddenly she realised that she was staring at his stomach and raised her eyes guiltily to meet his.

"I'll get it cleaned, and bring it round next time I'm over," she gulped a bit at her own assumption that she still had a job to go to.  "I mean... if you still..."

"Grrr.."

"Did you just..." it was Daniel's turn to look embarrassed "... oh never mind.  Let's get you a cab. Do you know any numbers?  I never use them we walk everywhere."

He merely shook his head.  "I guess I could look in the book," he looked around as if expecting the Yellow Pages to appear.  "Or..."

"Or?"

"Or..." Daniel seized the moment and leaned in for a kiss just as Violet remembered that nobody's fingers would be doing any walking as long as the book was propping up the wobbly sofa leg.

Her timing couldn't have been better if she'd actually planned a wrestling move, she ducked down as he leaned over, then she straightened back up again and caught him in the stomach with her head winding him.

"Ooof!"

"Sorry!  Are you OK?"

"I've had worse,"  he straightened up carefully and felt his abdomen.  "I'll live."

Violet waved the slightly torn Yellow Pages at him.  "Here, look through this.  I'm not wearing my glasses."

"Oh yeah, about that..."  Daniel gently took the book from her hand and threw it on the sofa.  "... let's try again, shall we?"

Violet looked confused, she'd completely missed his move on her.  He blushed slightly and took a step back.  _'Oh no, she doesn't want to... ohmygodwhatshouldIdonow?'  Yes he even talks to ****__himself like a racing commentator on speed._

The light suddenly dawned, Violet's eyes darkened and she took a step forward just as Daniel managed to make his feet work again.  She stood firmly on his right foot and he let out a yelp as her heavy boot connected with his bare foot.

"Ow!"

"Flaming Norah!  Oh God I'm so sorry, are you OK?"

Daniel rubbed his foot and grimaced.  "It's OK…"   he collapsed on the sofa.

"I know, I know… you've had worse!"  Violet stood in front of him.  "Perhaps we should just give up?"

"Oh no, never say die,"  he reached up and pulled down with him.  "Just don't move.  Don't speak.  Don't do anything."  This time their lips met.  And stayed met for some time. 

At this point we'll retreat a few paces.  Actually, we're running out of the door, along the corridor, down the stairs and out of the front door as fast as we can.  Peeping Toms we're not.  Suffice to say that no taxi was called from Violet's flat that evening.

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He was being suffocated!  Daniel struggled awake in a panic.  In the half light, for a moment, he couldn't remember where he was.  He felt movement somewhere under his chin and something soft and hairy rubbed against his upper chest.  He moved away from the warmth but the hairy thing followed him and tried to burrow in deeper.

Memory returned and, with a smile, he stroked the soft hair.  Turning onto his side he slipped an arm round the sleeping form which seemed suddenly very small.  He patted his hand down the body and sat up with a jerk.  Violet, not exactly massive to start with, had shrunk!  His eyes were starting to get used to the lack of light but not the lack of glasses. 

He sat up and was greeted by a sudden cacophony as the door opened a small amount.  That noise seemed familiar but the groggy morning-head that he had in place of his usual alert brain-the-size-of-a-planet version couldn't quite place it.

The top half of a body poked through the door.

"Ah... you're awake!  Do you want a cup of tea?"

"Um... who's...."

"Oh yeah... Um... Daniel meet Stella,"  Violet pointed to the small pyjamad figure snuggled into Daniel's side.  "She got back this morning.  Sorry for leaving her there, but she always comes in at weekends...." she blushed "...oh heck.  I'll get her out."

"No, it's ok, she's not doing any harm."  The 'she' in question was fast asleep, clutching a pink knitted creature that vaguely resembled a... oh no.  We're not going there.  It in no way resembled a rat, a mouse, an aardvark nor even an armadillo.  It was a Clanger.  And Stella loved it.

"So... tea?"

Daniel nodded, looked for and neglected to locate his clothes.

"Ah, I've sent it all out to the cleaners.  Won't be long."  Violet threw something at him.  "I borrowed these from my neighbour – you met her last night – and the sweatshirt is there,"  she indicated the chair at the end of the bed.  "Sorry, it's the best we could do at short notice."  Violet disappeared and a second or two later the noise started up again.  Daniel was left holding Violet's answer to his nakedness.  He shook the small bundle out and groaned. 

_'Oh no... I **can't wear these!' but he put on the pyjama bottoms anyway.  They were red, plaid – and worse still – soft and fluffy.  Brushed cotton in fact.  Dragging the too-small sweatshirt over his head he went into the living room and looked around out of habit.  He liked what he saw: organised chaos!  It looked like his office – he smiled when he thought of what Jack would say to this – but he somehow knew that Violet would know where everything was at all times.**_

The cacophony stopped at last as Violet's Spandau Ballet, and her singing-along, came to an end.  A small hand tucked itself into Daniel's and dragged him into the kitchen.

"Breakfast," said Stella.  "Pancakes.  Do you like pancakes?  What's your name?  Why haven't you got slippers on?  Mummy will tell you off you know?  What's your favourite colour?  Mine's pink."  There was more of this excited babble but the speed and pitch were rapidly approaching the levels at which they would soon become audible only to bats. 

"Stella!  Stop bending his ear and get the forks please."

Breakfast appeared on the table and the silence was broken only by small teeth chomping their way through a rather large pile of pancakes with a liberal dose of syrup.  There was less silence through face washing, hair brushing and teeth cleaning and the decibel level rose considerably during dressing but eventually Stella re-appeared dressed from top to toe in pink.

"Mummy said we can watch Blue'sCluesandLittleBillifwe'reveryquiet...."  She settled herself and the pink furry... sorry knitted Clanger comfortably on the sofa and concentrated on blue paw prints.

Violet nodded her head towards the kitchen and Daniel followed her.

"I suppose we need to talk?"

"Do we?"  He wrinkled his nose.  "Um... have you got any coffee?"

"No.  Sorry.  I wasn't expecting coffee drinking company."  There was an awkward silence.

"Oh this is stupid.  We've known each other for... what, 3 months?"

 "'bout that."

"And we talk all the time."

"Yes."

"About everything."

"Nearly everything," she nodded sagely. 

"So what's the problem?"

"I don't have a problem."

"Me neither."

"So."

"Good."

Violet stood up.  "Tell you what.  I'll go over to Lindsey and see if she'll give me some coffee.  You look like you need one."

Daniel blushed and mumbled something.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Sounded like _'didn't get enough sleep' to me," she swatted his behind as she scooted through the door.  He was too quick for her and grabbed her arm._

"Wait," he pulled her close.  "Look, I'm not asking for the stars... not yet anyway.  Lets have some fun and see how it goes?"

"Oh, I think can live with that Dr. Jackson," she pulled away and stood in the doorway.  "But don't think I'm cleaning your place for free!" and with a wink she was gone.

~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~

***Cop-out ending alert***

OK, this could go on for ever, but at some point it's got to end.  Did they live happily ever after? Did Violet clean Daniel's apartment for free, or give him a discount?  Why is Tetley tea so delicious?  What is a Clanger?  Well, dearest reader, I'm not going to tell.  Suffice to say, they did go on to have a lot of fun, and Violet bought Daniel some pyjamas for Christmas, with a curious pink creature embroidered on the pocket.


End file.
